“So here’s the plan.” Glitz paused, checking the structure in his head before confirming that it was sound. “Right, OK. First, we land on the planet and go into the Abigail Smythe Hospital. Our story is that you’ve been infested with a Gargonian brain parasite, and need urgent treatment.”
Doland let his eyelids and mouth droop; a line of saliva dropped from his lips.
“Uncanny. Once we’re in the hospital, we make a break for it and enter one of the staff changing rooms. There’s bound to be some spare uniforms lying around. So we change into a uniform each, and then travel down in one of the elevators to the main storage area. We pick up the Cellzers—they’ll probably be pretty heavy, but we’ll manage—and return to the Wreck. Then we get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Got it.”
“Ready?” Glitz said.
Doland nodded, and Glitz prepared for landing.
Chapter Fifteen
Glitz and Doland were standing in a lush green square, which was part of the courtyard of the Abigail Smythe Hospital. Glitz didn’t know who Abigail Smythe was, but many modern hospitals were named after exemplary scientists from antiquity. The courtyard made it clear that it was a private hospital; Glitz wondered vaguely how much treatment would cost in such a luxurious place. A crystal fountain stood in the middle of the square, surrounded by benches carved out of fragrant limewood. The white brick path leading to the hospital was edged by excellent statues.
The two men followed the white path towards the hospital. The building itself was a stunning design, which clearly followed the classic architectural principles laid out by Sir Delphon Bruneletti in his excellent book Principles for a Classical Future. Neither Glitz nor Doland knew the first thing about architecture, but they both recognised the splendour of the fine building.
They entered through the main door, and stepped into a finely decorated reception hall. The two men walked along the flagged stone floor and approached the reception desk. A blonde woman was sitting at the desk filing her nails discreetly, but she put away the nail file and smiled when she saw the visitors.
“Good morning!” she said politely, her golden hair illuminated by sunlight streaming through the glass roof. “Welcome to Abigail Smythe Hospital. May I take the name of the patient?”
She politely averted her eyes from Doland, who was slumped against Glitz with his eyes rolling and his tongue hanging out. He was giving a very good impression of a man with a Gargonian parasite, even though Glitz thought he might be overdoing it slightly.
“His name’s Ral Burnote. I’m afraid it’s a pretty bad case of parasite infection.”
The woman typed into her computer terminal, then looked up at Glitz. “Thank you.” She waved a hand over a sensor, and a glowing white shape appeared. It was a kind of stretcher that seemed to be made of light. “You can let go now,” she explained.
Glitz—hoping that Doland wouldn’t give himself away—let go of him slowly. As he did so, Doland began to rise slowly into the air, as if carried by an invisible force. The force lifted him, like some great puppet, onto the glowing stretcher. Then the stretcher began to move away from the reception desk.
“Please follow the stretcher,” the receptionist said. “It will lead you to the appropriate ward. The Abigail Smythe Hospital wishes you the very best of future health.”
“Thanks.”
Glitz still felt ridiculously nervous; it had been a while since he had been on a job. But everything seemed to be going smoothly. They followed the stretcher as it led them away from the main reception area, and along a white corridor, which was labelled CRANIOSURGERY DEPARTMENT. Glitz noticed a door marked STAFF CHANGING ROOM and tapped Doland.
“In here!”
Doland leapt off the stretcher and followed Glitz inside the room. It was a small room with lines of pegs and changing cubicles. The room was empty. Thank space for that, Glitz thought. He began to open the nearby lockers one by one, searching for…
“Here we go.”
Inside the locker, there was a pile of sealed plastic bags, each containing something made from white fabric. Glitz pulled out two bags and checked the sizes. They were both marked “Medium: Single Use”.
“Put one of these on.”
Glitz and Doland each dived into a separate cubicle. Glitz pulled off his leather jacket and jeans, pulling on the white medical clothes. It was a one-piece garment that looked almost like a white jacket and trousers, except that the arms and legs were short. The texture of the thing felt strange, because it was made of recyclable plasthyne. Doctors had been ordered to start wearing these type of clothes, which were called “singles”, after the terrible TRPT pandemic thirty years previously, which had been the scourge of the galaxy.
After the two men had changed, they hid their old clothes in one of the lockers and left the changing rooms. The floating stretcher was no longer in the corridor; Glitz guessed that it must have either dissolved or returned to reception. He turned to Doland.
“Right. Remember what Spaceman said? The Cellzers should be in the main equipment store, rather than in a specific department. So we need to find an elevator.”
“I saw one on the way here, just outside the corridor.”
At that moment, two doctors wearing singles appeared and marched down the corridor. Glitz froze, and nodded stiffly in greeting as they passed. The doctors ignored them, apparently lost in their own conversation. Glitz and Doland exhaled slowly, and left the corridor.
They stepped into the elevator, which was panelled with limewood. A female digital face appeared in the gilded mirror.
“Good morning. Which floor do you require?”
“Main storage,” Glitz said, unsure of the floor.
“Certainly, sir. Please provide your security clearance code.”
Space, Glitz thought. Where’s Tekka when you need him? He racked his brains, trying to figure out what to do. If they gave the wrong code, they risked attracting the attention of security. But if they didn’t enter any code at all, they wouldn’t be able to enter the storage area.
Then a nurse entered the elevator. She had dark hair and she was dressed in blue plasthyne scrubs. She frowned at Doland, and smiled at Glitz.
“Second floor,” she said.
Glitz touched her arm. “Er… my name’s Dr. Glitz. I’m new here. I wonder if you can help me? I don’t seem to have security clearance for the main storage floor… I don’t suppose you have an access code?”
The woman smiled. “I’ll swap it for your contact chip.”
“It’s a deal.”
“OK, the override password is ‘Velvet Nights’, you know, after the chocolates. But don’t go telling everyone. It’s bad for security. You’re supposed to have the full ID scan and everything. But us nurses always forget our clearance cards.”
Glitz winked. “I won’t tell a soul.”
The elevator doors slid open when they reached the second floor.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” the nurse said.
“What?”
“Your chip.”
“Oh, of course.” Glitz reached into the pocket of his single, into which he had dropped his wallet. He removed a contact chip, and passed it to the nurse.
The nurse grinned. “I’ll call you.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked primly out of the lift, turning to wink again at Glitz before the doors closed. Doland glanced at Glitz with some jealousy. He really couldn’t understand what women saw in the man. To be able to walk into a lift, persuade an attractive nurse to give you security clearance… and then for her to ask for your number… Doland had never had an experience that came remotely close.
“Take us to the storage floor,” Glitz said.
“Certainly. Please provide security clearance.”
“Override: Velvet Nights.”
There was a slight pause, and Glitz’s stomach lurched slightly. What if it was the wrong code? What if security came charging in to arrest them?
“Override accepted.”
The lift began to move down, and Glitz wiped his brow. A few seconds later, the doors slid open again, and they stepped into what looked like a darkened warehouse. A sensor, responding to their presence, activated the lights. As the gravity globes hanging above the storage bay flickered on, the men realised just how big the place was. It had to be almost the size of a gravity-ball pitch.
Glitz wandered over to a computer terminal, and tried to access it. But the system kept locking him out, because he didn’t have the required clearance. Once again, he found himself wishing for Tekka’s presence. No doubt, the man would have been able to hack the computer in a matter of seconds. As a last resort, he typed “Velvet Nights” into the system, and laughed aloud when he was granted access. The security in the hospital was appalling, but Glitz wasn’t complaining.
He managed to activate the virtual interface, and a hologram of a woman appeared. It was the same woman that had been the face of the computer inside the elevator.
“Good morning. How can I help you, sir?”
“We’re looking for a shipment.” Glitz checked the notes on his pocket tablet. “Shipment number 00392. A consignment of medical lasers—Cellzers.”
“Shipment registered as returned to manufacturer. Shipment number 00392 was collected thirty minutes ago by a courier from T&L.”
“Space!”
So the lasers had already been collected; they were too late. Glitz hadn’t thought to ask Spaceman when the Cellzers were due to be picked up. He was so angry that he kicked a nearby shelf; with a crash, a few boxes fell to the floor.
“So where’s the shipment now?” Doland said.
“T&L use the rail network almost exclusively,” the computer explained, “so in all likelihood the cargo is travelling towards the spaceport via the grav-train.”
Glitz’s heart leapt. So maybe it wasn’t too late. There was still a chance of picking up the lasers before they were returned to the East Galaxy Company. It was still possible for them to make the one million credits after all.
“Come on! We’ve got no time to lose! We’ve got to catch up with that train!”
Glitz and Doland ran back to the Wreck, which was still parked in a transport bay near the hospital. The new plan was risky, but the prize was worth the risk. With trembling hands, Glitz began to prepare the ship for ascent.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Doland wrung his hands together. “It seems… I don’t know… maybe the traffic authority will try to blast us out of the sky.”
“Why in the name of space would they do that? We’ve got landing permission, remember. All we need to do is catch up with the train, climb inside, pick up the Cellzers, and get the hell out of here.”
“I don’t know…”
Doland still looked uneasy. Glitz rolled his eyes, and started to lower the ship. There was no time to wait around. If the train had left over thirty minutes ago, it could be arriving at the spaceport any minute. As they rose up higher, they could begin to make out the grav-train tracks. There were only two tracks, which ran adjacently in a straight line from one end of the Health Zone to the other. As they got nearer, Glitz spotted the train.
“There it is!”
It couldn’t be more than sixty miles from the spaceport; they would have to be quick. They flew over the Health Zone, passing hundreds of hospitals, as they followed the line of the tracks. A few patients in the garden of one hospital glanced at them with curiosity; it was unusual for a ship to be flying so low across the planet.
“Nearly there,” Glitz said.
They had finally caught up with the grav-train, and Glitz set the controls so they would travel at a constant speed above the vehicle, keeping pace with it. Luckily the tracks were extremely straight, which made them easy to follow.
Glitz pulled out what looked like a length of metal rope from under the ship’s console. On each end of the rope, there was a small cube. “Atom clamps. Took them from Alyce’s pack when she wasn’t looking. She’d have killed me if she knew. Here, come and give me a hand.”
They left the flight deck and headed to the ship’s hatch. Glitz opened the door, and air began to rush in, creating a deafening sound. He fixed one of the atom clamps to the floor by the exit hatch; it held tight, adhering to the molecules.
Aiming carefully, Glitz threw the other end of the rope out of the hatch. It shattered a skylight in the roof of one of the train carriages, and the other atom clamp stuck fast to the floor of the carriage. Now, the metal rope between the atom clamps was vertical, connecting their ship with the train carriage.
“Follow me,” Glitz said.
He swallowed, and then, taking hold of the metal rope, slid down from the ship into the train carriage. “Come on!” he shouted.
Doland didn’t plan on going anywhere. He was perfectly happy where he—
The ship jolted, throwing him out of the hatch. He managed to keep hold of the rope, and he slid into the carriage.
“Good jump.”
Glitz took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He had to think straight. Where would the shipment be? He glanced around the carriage. The train was clearly owned by T&L, because it was filled with boxes, letters and parcels. But none of the mail had been sorted yet. The lasers could be in any carriage…
His eyes alighted on a huge crate, which was marked 00392. He laughed out loud, feeling almost like someone who had just won the Galactic Lottery. “What are the chances of that?” He pointed at the crate. “Come on, let’s lift it and get out of here.”
The crate was surprisingly light, despite the large size. Glitz guessed that it was fitted with a weight-reduction system, making it easy to carry despite the mass.
“Hey! Put down that crate!”
Glitz tensed. Three men had entered the carriage. They were dressed in odd black uniforms, which did not bear any official insignia.
“I said put it down!”
“Fine.” Glitz made a movement as if to put down the crate. Then he shouted, “Doland, grab hold!”
Glitz took hold of the atom clamp wire, and Doland did the same—they managed to take hold of it without letting go of the box, because it was so lightweight. Glitz kicked out his foot suddenly, activating the atom clamp. The bottom fixture came loose, and the wire dragged the two men up out of the train carriage and back into the Wreck. Glitz slammed the hatch.
There was the sound of a laser shot, and the ship shuddered.
“They’re firing at us!” Doland said.
Glitz leapt over to the controls and began to steer the ship away from the train. The three men in black uniforms fired at the ship a few more times, but within a few seconds they were out of range.
“Space, that was close!” Glitz said. “But one million credits!”
Doland grinned. “Let’s make sure we’ve got the right box first.”
The two men stepped over to the crate to look inside. There were about a hundred white items, which looked more like code scanners than lasers. Glitz took one of the lasers out, and turned it over in his hands. The operation seemed fairly straightforward. They were powered by a small solar grid, and there were only three controls: one to remove the safety, one for the setting, and one to activate. Flicking through the operation manual, Glitz read that the Cellzers could be used to cut and repair many different things, including skin, bandages and stitches, and even materials such as metal. Glitz turned off the safety and held the Cellzer at arm’s length.
“Careful with that!”
Glitz ignored him, and pointed the device towards a piece of bent metal that was beginning to come loose from the side of the ship. The Cellzer, which was set to -5, emitted a glow, and within seconds the metal had become re-joined. Glitz pulled it firmly, and it wouldn’t budge. The two men stared, impressed.
“Seems to be in full working order,” Glitz muttered. “So why were they due to be recalled? Anyway, I suppose it doesn’t matter. We’ll make a good profit for these on Sili
con Valley. Come on!”
Glitz set a course for the planet in question, which was unaccountably named Silicon Valley. No one really knew where the name came from; obviously it had something to do with the material used in many computer components. But the “Valley” part of the name was strange. The planet was infamous as a centre of cybercrime. All of the most notorious hackers, crackers, blackmailers and alien porn-dealers made their home there. Glitz tended to avoid the place, mostly because he was always worried that someone would be able to access his credit account remotely and steal all of his money. But he knew a man on Silicon Valley that would be very interested in the Cellzers, and not only because they contained valuable Zirgotic crystals.
The two men landed on the planet in one of the public hangars. The fee was quite expensive, but it was one of the few places on the planet where it would be even remotely safe to park a spacecraft—even one as useless as the Wreck. The world had only small pockets of green land in the more wealthy areas; aside from that, it was covered pole to pole in one sprawling city. Whole families of hackers were born and died on the same world. Parents would bring their children up in the art of computer fraud, and many of the biggest crime organisations on the planet were family-owned. The only group resembling a police force on Silicon Valley were the Bouncers, who mainly spent their time flying around and intimidating people. The Bouncers more often than not had heavy links with the big crime syndicates, and you could avoid punishment for virtually anything if you could come up with the right price.
“I don’t like the look of this place,” Doland said, as they strolled through a street. The air was heady with the scent of fried street food, and the road was strewn with litter.
“Just keep your head down and you’ll be fine.”
The two men passed through the rougher suburbs of the city and got on a grav-train. They watched the city speed past. Eventually the houses began to look a little less rundown. They were entering the wealthy exurbia. The inhabitants of the area were still criminals, of course. No one but a criminal would live on a world like Silicon Valley. But these were the homes of the truly successful criminals, those who had hacked their way to riches. Nearly every city on Silicon Valley had such areas, which were generally known as Havens. The creator of Benediction, a virus that had stolen credits from billions of accounts across the Imperium, lived in one of the Havens. If he left the planet, he would be quickly arrested, so for him it was a haven in the literal sense of the world. Many citizens of the Imperium were angered by the existence of a planet like Silicon Valley—a place where computer criminals could operate freely, without fear of reprisals. But, in truth, there was very little the Imperium could do. Certainly, they could storm in and arrest everyone, or even utterly wipe out the planet. But they were painfully conscious that they were dealing with the most technically competent people in the galaxy. A ten-year-old boy brought up on the planet could probably wipe out their most advanced systems with a single button press. So the Imperium kept a close eye on the planet, while conscious that there was very little they could do to control it.
Death to the Imperium (Imperium Cicernus) Page 13